Trusting You
by SML818
Summary: They're all paid to kill. They all have their reasons. But, what would happen if they weren't all as they seemed? A simple job becomes so much more when one starts to grow attached to the targets. Rated for language, situations, and of course, being TF2-related.
1. Chapter 1

Trusting You: Chapter One: Assignments and Team Members

"A girl?!"

"Yes, and you had better make her feel welcome. Get her trained and get her on the ground as soon as you can."

"Well, this should be interesting."

It certainly would be. The RED team had just received word from Miss Pauling that they were going to be receiving a tenth member to their team, and the overall reaction was mixed, to say the least. Meanwhile, the one whom was being seen as an addition and fellow mercenary by the team was receiving slightly different news.

"Nine guys? Are you crazy?! I'm just one person!"

"You didn't protest when a promotion and pay raise were mentioned."

"I know, but sir, I didn't realize-,"

"You're going. End of story. You've got two months."

"Yes, sir."

A new job, that's all it was for her. A crazy one, with high expectations and equally high stakes, but, a job none-the-less. Honestly, she didn't really care what the stakes were, or really what she had to do. Yes, it was a far larger job that what she'd been employed to do in the past, but those had all been too easy. She needed a challenge, and this may be something that she could sink her teeth into.

 _She_ was Ivy Lee Cameron Gale. She always found her name a bit annoying, but, that was beside the point. The young woman was unstable at best, untrusting towards most, and she rarely gave much information about herself, preferring, instead, to get information on others. Ivy was able to gain trust without trusting in return, it was a natural thing for her. She was careful with her speech and appearance to keep up the act.

None of that mattered at this point, though. All that mattered was the job at hand, and that job was, interesting to say the least. Normal, in a way, but still interesting. The girl would have to find her place in a team of men that were a breed all their own.

This team? A quick-footed Bostonian, a masked Frenchman, a one-eyed Scott, an insane doctor, and Australian marksman, a laid-back inventor, a pyromaniac, a sandwich-loving Russian, and a helmet-wearing nutcase. Not exactly a group with many similarities, to say the least. The only things these men had in common was the color of their uniforms, and their surprise at learning they would have a female joining them. In only a few days, their numbers would increase from nine, to ten.

And none of them knew the true reason behind their new member. If only they did.

 _ **((Well, there's the first chapter. This is my first story for TF2, and so I hope this will go as well as I think it will. Be sure to favorite/follow this story to get all the updates as they come out, and leave comments with any ideas, thoughts, or constructive criticism you may have.))**_


	2. Chapter 2

Trusting You: Chapter Two: Introductions and Plans

The sun was just going down after a long day of combat. Most of the team wars badly injured, safe for the Medic, Spy, and Scout (though he'd sprained his ankle, and stated he could take care of it himself). While Medic was treating their injured teammates, the two men sat in the main, sort of "common room", of the base.

"What d'you think this girl's gonna be like?" the Scout asked suddenly, breaking the silence as he lay on his back on one of the couches, looking at the ceiling.

"We'll find out when she arrives," the Spy told him. Although, he'd been wondering the same thing these past few days.

It seemed everybody was curious about their soon-to-be teammate. A room had been quickly set up by the Engineer, across from Sniper's assigned room (though he rarely ever used it, preferring to stay in his camper-van), and next-door to Spy's room. They had considered putting her across from Scout, though then decided against it for more reasons than they could really keep track of. Engineer had put the room together quickly. It wasn't much; a bed, desk, chair, bookcase, and a sort of double-closet were all that the room contained. It was very much like all the other rooms, to be honest, with a few shelves attacked to the walls for storage space, and a full-length mirror on the wall beside the door. The wooden door remain bare of any markings, unlike all the others, on which hung a small sign with the class of the occupant painted on, while the key to the new room hung on the doorknob.

Soon, there was the sound of an announcement coming over the base speakers. "Passenger transport vehicle incoming".

"That must be her," Spy said, setting the book he was reading aside. The tall, lanky Frenchman stood, stretching his back a bit.

"Hell yeah!" exclaimed Scout, as he jumped up from his position on the couch. Right as he put weight on his injured ankle, though, he let out a quick shout of pain, before falling back to sit on the couch behind him. The young Bostonian glared as his French ally chuckled at him. "Shut up," he spat.

The Spy chuckled more, lighting the cigarette that hung from between his lips. "You keep off that ankle," he said, leaving with a slight wave behind him.

He didn't have far to go, really. The entry bay to the base was only a few halls away. As the masked Frenchman stepped through the large door, he saw a red car just pulling in. The tinted windows his the people inside from view. The engine stopped, the passenger door opened, and out stepped the young woman from the backseat. As she got out of the vehicle, she pulled a single black suitcase out behind her.

Spy hadn't expected his new teammate to be so clean-cut. She wore a simple black skirt that came to her knees, a red blouse with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and red ankle-high boots with a one-inch blocked heel. Her skin was lightly tanned, and well taken care of. The young woman's hair was dark brown, nearly black, and tied back in a neat bun, with bangs falling in a curtain just passed her eyebrows. Her eyes were something else altogether. They were both different, with the left one being a sky blue color, and stunningly clear, while the right was a light brown, drastically contrasting its counterpart. She seemed simple, and almost dainty, as if she shouldn't be part of a team of rugged mercenaries. But, here she was, and that was all that mattered.

"Bonjour," the man stated as he stepped closer.

"Hello," the woman stated in reply. "You must be the team's Spy," she said.

"Oui, I am. But you, as all of the others, may call me Parvis, if you wish," Spy replied, looking down at the young woman before him.

The brown-haired woman smiled a bit and nodded, "It suits you," she said. "The name means fortunate or lucky, after all".

"So it does. I suppose it does work well, then,"

"And, I'm Ivy, by the way. It's a pleasure to meet you,"

"The pleasure is all mine,"

Ivy simply nodded, her soft, kind expression never changing. After another minute, the car behind them pulled away, and the larger, garage-style door closed with a metallic thud against the hard dirt ground. The pair then began to head towards the main area where the rest of the team was now assembled. They climbed the short wooden staircase, and made their way through the maze of halls.

 _'This one'll be easy,'_ Ivy thought. _'He's thinner than I am, though taller, it shouldn't take too much effort to take him down if the timing is right.'_

Parvis and Ivy soon arrived at the open entrance to the large room. As their steps could be heard, several of the other team members looked up from whatever they were doing. After maybe thirty seconds of silence, a whistle came from one of the men.

"Robert, that was uncalled for," Parvis said, looking over at the couch where the Scout was still on his back.

"You know I hate that name!" the Bostonian shouted.

"Shut up! You little babies are scaring Sasha!" shouted a booming voice from the corner of the room.

"It's a gun, you bit oaf! It ain't alive!"

"Stoppen! Shut up, you dummkopfs!" a heavily German-accented voice cut in, managing to silence the others before anyone else decided to join in on the shouting.

As all this went on, Ivy stood silent, watching and listening to the men argue. She was analyzing the interactions between them, trying to think about which would be the easiest to take out, and which would put up more of a fight.

It seemed to her that the easier men would be Parvis, the Sniper, and the Engineer. Then maybe the Medic, Scout, and Pyro (as long as she could disarm him). The largest and strongest of the group, the Soldier, Demoman, and Heavy would prove to be the most difficult, as they were each roughly twice her size (nearly three times, in Heavy's case). But, these were only first impressions, and appearance can differ greatly from reality. She had time, though. It wasn't as much as she would have liked, but it was time. Things would have to simply come as they would, the pieces fall where they may, and she'd work out the rest.

"Uh, hello? Anybody in there?" a call came, snapping Ivy out of her thoughts. A bandaged hand was waving mere inches from her face, trying to get some kind of reaction from the young woman. She rolled her eyes and pushed the hand away from her face. "Hey, lights're on and there's someone home!" the Bostonian joked.

 _'There'll be no remorse with this one,'_ Ivy thought.

"Name's Robbie," the young man stated, his hand out for a handshake.

"Ivy," the young woman replied, shaking his hand. His grip was strong, and the tips of his fingers were rough ad calloused.

"Robert is our Scout," Parvis explained. "That man with the large gun is Mikhail; our Heavy. Those three at the table are our Engineer; Dell, Soldier, and Demoman, Tavish. The two playing darts are our Medic and Sniper, Markel and Mundy," he continued, motioning to each of the other men in the room. All but one, who sat alone in the corner, staring at the flame of a lighter.

"And that's the Pyro?" Ivy said, her statement sounding more like a question than she had intended, sense the answer was obvious.

"Yeah. None of us know anything about 'em, though," Robbie said.

Ivy looked at the figure in the corner for another moment, before starting to walk over to them. Several of the other men looked on, unsure of what the young woman was up to. The Soldier made his way slowly to the fire-extinguisher, in case anything were to happen.

Ivy knelt down in front of the masked figure. His focus on the flame didn't break until he felt a tap on the arm of his flame-retardant suit. He flicked the lighter shut, and turned his masked face up towards the dark haired female before him.

"Mmph," the Pyro mumbled through his mask. The sound resembled a sort of 'hello'.

"Hi there," Ivy replied. "We're all wondering what your name is, what we could call you. Could you tell us?" she asked, her voice calm, as she didn't want to startle or otherwise break the calm demeanor the Pyro was exhibiting.

"Mmlph-mmph," the sitting figure replied. The response was too muffled to make out.

"I'm sorry, but we can't understand you through your mask,"

The Pyro was silent for a moment before he seemed to come up with an idea. The lighter was set aside, and gloved fingers began to form different shapes. Pyro seemed to by signing the letters of his name to reply.

"Wait, slow down, okay? Start over for me, I'm a little rusty,"

The masked head nodded, and slowed the motions as he started again. K-E-L-V-I-N.

"Kelvin? That's your name?"

The Pyro nodded.

Ivy smiled kindly as she stood back up, and Kelvin went back to admiring his lighter. "Well, now we know," she said, turning to the others. "Even if it isn't his real name, at least it's something to call him."

The others all nodded, though most seemed more surprised than anything else. Soldier set the fire-extinguisher away, as everyone else went back to what they had been doing. Ivy was unsure of what she should do at this point. That was until a tall man, dressed in dark brown slacks, the cuffs tucked into his boots, a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, red tie, tan waistcoat, and small round glasses walked up to her. The team's Medic, if she remembered correctly. She looked up at him, as the tall German adjusted his spectacles on his nose.

"Hallo," the man greeted. His accent was very obviously German, and fairly heavy, at that.

Ivy nodded in silent greeting, shaking the man's hand. Like Robbie, Markel's grip was strong, but not nearly as rough or calloused. "It's a pleasure," she said.

"If you vould follow me, zere are a few zings zat need to be taken care of," Markel said, his accent combined with the devilish sort of grin that crossed his featured, bearing the man's sharp canines, sent a small shiver down Ivy's spine.

"Um, alright,"

At that, the doctor nodded, and he began to walk out of the room. Ivy followed the tall German out into the hall, falling into step beside him in the wide corridor. The pair made their way through several hallways, making multiple turns through the maze of worn wood and scorched metal. To Ivy, the air seemed tense, with only the sound of their shoes contacting the floor to break the silence that surrounded them.

Eventually, they came to a set of swinging double-doors. Markel pushed one open and stepped into the large room behind it, holding the door open for Ivy. The young woman entered warily. She had never been fond of doctors, not in the slightest.

The room was fairly dimly lit, with a large operating lamp over the table in the center. As Ivy looked at the walls, she saw multiple metal cabinets, some open, some shut. The open cabinets contained all sorts of medicine bottles and kits, the sight of which caused Ivy to swallow hard. Her eyes continued around the room, stopping on a small table beside the operating table, on which sat multiple surgical instruments that caught and reflected the light. It sent a shiver down the young woman's spine.

"Please, step behind zee curtain over zere and remove your blouse, and preferably your brassier, as vell, and put on a gown for me," Markel instructed, motioning over to a privacy curtain in the corner of the room. "Ensure the ties are in the front, it makes things easier."

Ivy gave a small nod and went over into the corner of the room. She stepped behind the curtain and took off the red blouse she had on, along with the red undershirt and her brassier, tucking the latter in between her shirts and placing them on a chair. The young woman slipped on one of the red-tinted gowns and tied it in the front before emerging from behind the curtain.

"Good. Now, please get up onto the table. I vill be vith you in just a moment," the German told her as he rinsed the soap from his hands and wrists.

Ivy struggled for a second before getting herself onto the table. The thin parchment paper crinkled beneath her as she settled herself. She tried to occupy her mind as she waited, focusing on her plan, rather than her situation.

 _'I can probably take out the Spy and Scout with my knife, no doubt about that. Maybe the Engineer, too, as long as I can get close to him, same foes for the sniper. The Castle would take down the Soldier and Pyro easily, and maybe the Medic… Would the Jackal be overkill on the Demo and Heavy?'_ the young woman's mind raced as her thoughts distracted her from whatever Markel was doing.

"Now," Markel said. His voice pulled Ivy from her thoughts. "Prepare for your examination."

That smirk again, as devilish as before. It sent a chill down Ivy's spine, making her blood run cold. There was only one thing she could think after hearing those words, and seeing that smirk, _'Oh shit…'_

 _ **((So, just to clear a couple of things up, I decided that this would be a bit better if the classes all had proper names, and so that's what happened. I used most of the cannon names that are given to the characters, or at least the ones I could find. So, to make sure it makes sense, here they are; Heavy is Mikhail, Engineer is Dell Conagher, Demo is Tavish DeGroot, Sniper is Mundy. Sense the others don't have known names, I just gave them some, so Scout is Robert/Robbie, Spy is Parvis (pronounced Par-vees), Medic is Markel, Pyro is Kelvin, and Soldier just doesn't have a name, because I think it works a little better.))**_


	3. Chapter 3

Trusting You: Chapter Three: Preparations

Ivy watched as Markel grasped a syringe in his gloved hand. She swallows hard as the light reflected off the needle's surface. The syringe itself was empty, though the fact did very little to calm the young woman's nerves.

"Could you, maybe, tell me about what you're going to be doing as you prepare?" Ivy asked, hoping her voice wasn't shaking.

"You have an interest in medicine?" Markel questioned, arching an eyebrow at the woman on his table.

"Somewhat. It's sort of a distraction, more or less. My doctor back home would talk with me to keep my mind off what's going on,"

"Ah, I see. Vell, I vill do my best to distract you, zen. Right now, I am going to start by drawing a sample of your blood, after zat, I vill perform a standard exam,"

Ivy gave a small nod, chewing on the inside of her lower lip. She averted her gaze from her left arm to the metal of the table to her right as she felt Markel grip her arm. The needle sharply pricked her arm, and it burned a bit as the empty body of the syringe filled with the sample of her blood. Markel carefully removed the needle and covered the wound it left behind. The man then set the vial aside, and began to prepare for Ivy's exam.

It was a routine exam, just checking reflexes, breathing, heartrate, and various other things. The off putting silence would occasionally be broken by Markel's narration of what he was doing, simple phrases, but nothing much more than that.

"It vould seem zat you are very healthy," Markel said. "Zat is vonderful, it vill make zings far easier coming up," the German stated, his lips curling into another sinister, devilish smirk. "If you vould lay down, zere are a couple of zings I need to do,"

"Um, okay," Ivy reluctantly replied, laying down. The young woman winced as the bright surgical lamp overhead was turned towards her chest, causing it to flash in her eyes for a second. Her obvious nerves came through as she spoke, while Markel brought over the small table of surgical supplies, "What are you going to do?"

"Oh, nothing major. I vill simply be putting a device on your heart zat vill allow you to take and withstand the Medigun in battle, and I vill also be putting a chip in at zee base of your skill to allow for you to go through respawn," Markel stated. The tone he used was very casual as he spoke. Far too casual for what he was going to be doing.

"Um… Shouldn't I be asleep for this, or something?" Ivy questioned. Even without any medical training, she knew that this sounded like a very major undertaking, regardless of what the German doctor said.

"Don't you vorry, I have done zis for every person on zee team. It is perfectly safe," he told her, expecting it to reassure her that she was going to be fine.

That was not very reassuring, in all honesty. As Markel began to draw the incision guides on her chest, Ivy forced herself to remain as still as she could. She watched as the German slipped on a set of red gloves and picked up a syringe.

"You vill be under a strong pain killer, though," he told her, just before delivering the dose to the young woman.

For a short moment, the site of the injection stung and burned, but she soon began to feel the effect of the medication. She lay her head back as Markel picked up a sharp scalpel from the table and got to work. The young woman could only vaguely feel the occasional tug at her insides, though she really couldn't tell what was going on inside of her.

 _'All the better that I can't feel it,'_ Ivy thought through the haze of the medication. _'This'll be over with soon enough, and after this job, this stuff'll be taken out, you'll recover, and get back to work.'_

It was barely an hour later that her chest was being sewn back together. Ivy took this as a chance to take a look at what damage had been done. She was left with an angry red mark along her chest, with expertly made stitches holding the skin together. At this point, she noticed a device mounted to the ceiling, a device she could only guess was the Medigun that she had been told about earlier.

Markel flipped a switch on the device and turned to prepare for the next operation. The device overhead softly whirred to life as a pinkish-red beam flowed from it and around her chest. The surgical wounds began to heal, as Ivy felt a subtly warm, somewhat calming sensation. After a short moment, Markel had turned off the Medigun and gotten Ivy to sit up so that he could get the respawn chip implanted into her head.

This took far less time to do, as he only needed to make a small cut to get the small chip in, along with a total of three small stitches to close the wound. After another quick minute with the Medigun as her German comrade cleaned up, Ivy was able to get herself put back together behind the curtain.

"Zere, now at zis point, you vill be ready for battle come Monday. We have mandatory weekend ceasefires, and as today is Friday, and battle has already wrapped up for zee day, you vill have two days to prepare," Markel told Ivy as they made their way back to where the others were still socializing.

"So, how'd it go?" Robbie asked, being the first of the men to notice the pair enter. Ivy couldn't tell if he was being genuinely curious, or if he was intending to be sarcastic. Luckily, the team's Medic answered before she could say anything.

"All preparations have been made. Everything is in place come Monday's battle," Markel stated.

"Seems all there is to do now is to get acquainted, and for you to settle in," Dell offered, with his calm southern drawl. All the others nodded in agreement, though the statement really hadn't been necessary.

 _'Well, here we go. No turning back, now, Ivy. Let's get this going,'_ Ivy thought to herself. She had to go through with her assignment, now. Even though she hadn't had a choice on it in the first place, she could've found some way out. Not now, things were on their way to being done, and the young woman was along for the ride, whether she wanted to be or not.


End file.
